“Probation?”
Jae-ha frowned. For someone who had kidnapped others for decades, the punishment seemed absurdly lenient.
“Yes. They were going to issue a no-contact order with the Cheonrok too, but he said that wasn’t necessary.”
The Cheonrok himself had attended the trial as the victim and testified. But he only stated the facts, making it clear he held no particular grudge against Lord Yeomjeong. With a baffling disregard for danger, the Cheonrok faced the stiff, formal courtroom atmosphere with a relaxed smile.
Well… maybe getting all the Hwanggwaju Yeomjeong had stockpiled is actually the better deal here.
In the end, Cheonrok received every drop of Hwanggwaju that Lord Yeomjeong had carefully saved for him, and Yeomjeong’s punishment was reduced to just seven hundred years of probation.
“The Emperor was clearly playing favorites. Everyone knows Lord Yeomjeong hates working. That sentence basically said, ‘Go hole yourself up for seven hundred years and cool your head.’ If they really wanted to punish him, they should’ve made it seven thousand years. Seven hundred is nothing. And that Hwanggwaju? It was meant for the Cheonrok anyway. That’s why people in the Celestial Realm grumbled when the verdict came down. No one says it aloud since the Cheonrok brushed it off, but still.”
During probation, Lord Yeomjeong’s authority and ability to use star power were heavily restricted, but that didn’t mean he was helpless. Realistically, it was more like an unpaid vacation.
“So the Celestial Realm isn’t exactly a shining beacon of justice either.”
Jae-ha muttered, unimpressed. To a human like him, seven hundred years was an eternity, but judging from Su-min’s tone, it was nothing much up there.
So even gods play favorites. It felt like seeing the shadow side of their so-called divine world. Su-min shook his head.
“There’s no place more tangled in politics than the Celestial Realm. With so many powerful figures gathered, they fight over the pettiest things. I’ve seen generals dispatched just because someone else managed to get a rare bonsai they couldn’t.”
“……”
Come to think of it, Lord Tamlang had made a huge fuss about not receiving Baeksa fruit, ranting about disrespect and demanding retribution. She’d even sent Yeong-bin to steal them. Pathetic. Old in years maybe, but their behavior was no different from humans in the In-gye.
By the time the lecture hall was about half full, the professor came in. After a glance around the empty seats, he joked that he hadn’t expected the festival to drain his students so thoroughly, and began the class.
About ten minutes later, Su-min tapped Jae-ha’s arm, looking unsettled.
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
Since they were in class, their voices stayed low. Jae-ha leaned closer to catch the whisper, and Su-min tilted his head in as well.
“Uh… did something happen with him?”
“What?”
Jae-ha blinked. There was only one person Su-min would call “him.”
Why bring that up? Especially Su-min, who disliked Hae-hyun more than anyone.
The answer came quickly.
“He’s sitting behind us right now.”
“…What?”
Jae-ha nearly turned around on reflex but caught himself. Ju Hae-hyun was sitting behind them? …Didn’t he have class?
“For real?”
Jae-ha frowned. Su-min gave a tiny nod. Concerned their voices might carry, Jae-ha leaned even closer. Their whispers grew softer.
“I can feel his energy radiating back there.”
“Right in the row behind?”
“No, looks like one row back from that.”
Su-min seemed just as confused as Jae-ha. Which made sense—no one, not even Jae-ha who was at the center of all this, could make sense of Hae-hyun’s behavior.
Why suddenly show up here? Jae-ha’s gaze drifted unfocused. Yesterday Hae-hyun had ignored him, and today he was sneaking into someone else’s lecture? Impossible to read.
The message Jae-ha had sent yesterday afternoon—Did you get home safe?—hadn’t been answered until today at lunch. He’d seen the reply while heading to campus, just before this general ed lecture that began right after the break.
After twenty hours, the reply was just a single word:
[Ju Hae-hyun]
Yes
For Seo Jae-ha, who had never waited twenty hours for a reply or received a one-word answer in his life, it was a shock.
On the way to class, he’d stared at that curt response for a long time before finally closing the chat. It felt less like a genuine reply and more like something typed reluctantly out of guilt. Jae-ha wasn’t clueless enough to respond cheerfully to that.
He had planned to court Hae-hyun, yes, but that was under the assumption there was at least some mutual fondness. Jae-ha knew better than anyone how suffocating it was to be pursued after rejecting someone. Trying to flirt in this situation would only make things worse.
Why did I say that so recklessly? He sighed inwardly, drowning in the same regret that had haunted him thousands of times over the past two days. If there were a spell to rewind time, he’d sell his soul for it. At least he’d learned his lesson.
…And now this.
“Did you guys fight? His expression is intense.”
Why the hell was he in this class of all places?
Su-min must have glanced back again, because he started narrating Hae-hyun’s expression for Jae-ha. What the hell. If you reject a confession, that’s that. Why act like you’re angry on top of it? Is my confession really that offensive to you?
The bitter thought didn’t make him feel any lighter.
“No, we didn’t fight. I just… don’t know.”
His tone sagged without him realizing. Su-min studied him carefully.
“Hyung, are you okay? You look pale.”
“Ah, it’s just… I drank too much at the afterparty last night.”
“Was it that bad?”
Even with the excuse, Su-min looked disgusted.
“I’ll never understand why humans and celestials alike are so obsessed with alcohol. Lord Hwang-ryong too—always throwing banquets and drinking till dawn.”
His tone made it clear he couldn’t relate. Given he’d almost been turned into an ingredient for infused liquor, his distaste was understandable. Instead of a preachy “you’ll get used to it,” Jae-ha offered a joke.
“Sounds like Lord Cheonrok and your Lord Hwang-ryong would get along.”
“…How did you know? I heard they do meet from time to time.”
Jae-ha smirked. At moments like this, the two-hundred-year-old Imoogi really did seem like a twenty-year-old kid.
After that, Jae-ha deliberately avoided turning around for the rest of class. Whatever reason Hae-hyun had for skipping his own lecture to sit here, he wasn’t making any move to talk or even acknowledge him. Clearly, he didn’t want Jae-ha to know.
In fact, maybe his presence had nothing to do with Jae-ha at all. Hadn’t he already made that mistake of misunderstanding before? Maybe it was time to stop. He could’ve just coincidentally ended up here.
If Hae-hyun’s visit had nothing to do with him, there was no point stirring up more trouble. Yesterday’s slip still burned in his chest like a thorn. Jae-ha shut his eyes tight, forcing down the humiliation bubbling in his throat.
He resisted the urge to turn around until class finally ended. Only then did he pack his bag and sneak a glance—only to find the seat empty. Hae-hyun was already gone.
But his strange behavior didn’t stop there.
“Oppa… did you fight with that guy from PE?”
Min-hee leaned in, whispering with concern.
And with reason. At a nearby table sat a hulking figure Jae-ha knew all too well, alone in the corner.
“No. We didn’t fight.”
Jae-ha answered sourly. It was the truth. They hadn’t fought.
Since Hae-hyun had been seated behind him earlier, Jae-ha hadn’t looked back, but unfortunately, Hae-hyun was the kind of person impossible to miss. Min-hee, for one, had noticed him the instant he sat down.
